grapes

Back for my second post of the day! Huzzah.

I love when bloggers update often. Here’s looking at you, Miya.

Actually, I’m back because I just found a treasure trove of other people’s blogs (people that I know) and now I must outdo them. That’s the thing with me, I know I can outdo people, but there’s no recognition. This isn’t deepish or anything royish either, but my life has been a series of screwups. (I’m not being deep right now, and that wasn’t sarcasm.) I do wonderful on practice tests, then mess up the real thing. I never do the best I can, even if I try.

Why is blogging so fun!?!?!?

This post sucks. My outdoing plan has failed huzzah?

Yesh, so I’m reading everyone else’s blog and going, “Teehee, my blog > your blog.” And eating assorted nuts that make me feel like I’m at a stinky old pub, even though I’ve never been in a pub…ever.

I really really want to travel. I’ve got wanderlust, and that sounds scandalous. Sounds like something Sushi would get, and she would cure it by traveling with her bicycle. Getting around, seeing things, you know?

But yes, I’ve got this random dream to go bed&breakfasting in Europe, and to go sailing in Maine.

Because recently I’ve discovered people’s blogs - and I don’t know anyone like that. People who do things, crazy things like throw a birthday party in an old movie theater or go to Peru just because. Okay, maybe those aren’t crazy enough. But I could never throw a party like that because, well, who would willingly go?

Crap, this has turned into another deep post, just the opposite of what I intended. I’m not going to tell my friends that I’m feeling deep, because remember what happened last time?

Let’s move past that.

I opened my email to a joyous surprise! New videos from girl-with-earliest-JohnnyDepp-stuff! There was some new “Alice in Wonderland” stuff – can’t wait. The thought of Alan Rickman’s head superimposed on a caterpillar, his voice coming from that contraption, that is huzzah.

I have my first job shadow meeting on Tuesday. Now the real challenge comes, because this time we are ordering at Starbucks, and I can’t order anywhere. Plus there’s the awkward situations that come with food and other people.

The worst thing is eating noodles in public. It’s like, you look up and there’s blood all over your face. Excuse me, tomato sauce.

I can’t help feeling like I want to get out of here and do something (dot org). Let’s have a day where we all just go frolic in the park. But not CPE. I don’t think I can ever go there again.

Darn you, flasherman! You’ve just ruined one of my favorite parks in the city. The one where I used to go early in the morning, run and wave at the old Chinese people doing taichi under the rotunda, and feel the itchiness of my pores opening on my thighs.

Seriously, they do. And you sweat.

I need to exercise. But at least I’ve stopped caring about my height. My buddies had another looks conversation yesterday and I just tuned them out and told Sushi about my plans to save the polar bears and train a troupe of tap-dancing unicorns. They were talking about tans for the second time this week, and Tiffany is so proud of her thin wrists and how she towers over the rest of us. I used to think they were so much more intelligent than the other people in the school, with more common sense.

Now I realize they’re just more selfish and cowardly. At least the popular people do things for their buddies without getting benefits for themself. They do things, go places. Out here in the periphery tee hee it’s no man’s land, every man for himself, and I’m not going to run in the middle and pick up all the pieces. Haha did you like my extended metaphor?

No Man’s Land is the best game ever. Heck, turning a game of bad-minton into a reenactment of World War One is always fun.

Today in the bathroom I gave myself the excuse that I’m just too busy to do anything besides homework. But then I realized that once I start working I’ll always say that I’m too busy, and this will go on forever until I find myself at 85, too old to do anything anymore.

People can’t fire off tasks one after another. I think it’s our nature to linger on things and waste time in between. Because if we did things in successive order even the fun things would feel like chores.

Back to my poopy friends. Haha I’m sure everyone is tired of hearing about this, but I have to get it off my chest. 

I’m on all night on aim, because being on aim gives you that feeling of being with people, and it’s a nice feeling. But the people who count aren’t on, and when I ask them the next day, “Where were you last night?” they just shrug like, who cares? And go on their little trips together because, oops, I forgot that grapes had to go too.

I can’t get over how narrow-minded they are. I wear tights for the first time (okay, second. First was the library for a study group with Asmita, because it was Sunday and my church buddies are way more accepting of dressing up) since Preschool and they ask me what the occasion is? Sushi just points and laughs, and she can’t stop laughing for ten minutes. I just ignore her and ask her in an angry Asian voice, “What were you and Mr. G talking about?” because she had broken off midsentence to laugh at me. They ask me why I’m so dressed up? It’s just a jumper (haha now I know the word) and tights. I don’t have to look like you, oh rich Tiffany, with your requests for $96 jewelry for Christmas. (We are not as rich as you and no one likes your dog with the uniboob.) You who wears a sweatshirt and jeans. People can always change, and they always want to, but their friends are what keeps them from doing it. I avoided necklaces for years because I knew they would just point, laugh, and say I was girly. I would get some immature whine from Amanda like, “Ooohhh Grapes is wearing a necklace. She’s so girly.”

So I stayed frumpy and such for years, until one day they had raced ahead of me. Now I’ve learned to just ignore your friends and go for it.

Haha I’m just letting it all out now.

I’m slowly starting to realize that I will never be that perfect parent that I’ve always imagined I would be. Because I see everyone else ranting about their parents and I’ve realized it’s a global disease, unfair parents. You get caught up in the moment and you start screaming really really hateful things at your children, like my dad last night, who picked the worst time, right as I was about to fall asleep. I was literally on the edge of that cliff. Like, one more lull and I’d be asleep. But no, he had to begin ranting for ten minutes (with minute-long pauses in between, like breaks in between paragraphs) until I finally lost all sleepiness and almost cried because I was so tired.

Hormones, stop. Please? I hate PMSing. But that doesn’t automatically discredit all this deepness I’m coming up with. I think it’s funny that I every month, I try to negotiate with nature. Like, please don’t let it come on Tuesday, I have detention and a major meeting and I can’t afford to be in extreme pain.

I’m just going to accept detention, because there’s nothing I can do. And if this sounds defeatist, it’s not. I’ve got this memory of getting into extreme trouble because I backtalked to a teacher. The thing is, it never happened.

My dad always says things like, “I don’t see the drive, the desire for life, to do things. How do you expect to be anybody?” It hurts because he doesn’t know how badly I want to try everything.

Does anyone remember that creepy video from eighth grade about the man with the scary gray eyes? Also, I found two clowns in my closet. I’m putting them up. This weekend is room makeover time! Huzzah!

Third awkward post in a row much? Please don’t remember what I wrote here, it was probably just a PMS phase. Yet PMSing kind of brings out the real person.